Wired—Weird—Word
by DoctorDoctor
Summary: Due to popular demand, here it is: The collective works of the Weird Series——which, might I add, still has a few more parts to go. . . And possibly a sequel.
1. Chapter 1

**Wired—Weird—Word.**

Sometimes, you're bored.

Other times, you may be here by accident.

Or maybe you're just an idiot, like me, who's procrastinating, at 11.3o PM, on homework due the next day.

Whatever the case may be, I know two _very_ important things.

One: Aang is positively _wired_. His sugar intake should be cut to z-e-r-o, zero.

Two: This story is positively _weird_. _My_ sugar intake should be cut to z-e-r-o, zero.

…Word.


	2. Weird

**Weird.**

(When life gives you psychotic hotties down the road, just nod and go with it.)

It's really interesting, you know, to live my life.

Demanding, exciting, frustrating, galvanizing, horrifying, and interesting.

I could re-write the alphabet to describe my life—even down to using 'zesty' for 'z'. Amusingly enough, (Hey, there's another one I could use!), it'd all be quite fitting, too.

Boy, if I ever say a psychologist, they'd pronounce me a nut-job; this is ridiculously strange—I'm talking to myself. Though, in retrospect, it's still better than talking to a coconut.

So, anyways.

One day, I'm trying to drown this guy with a canteen, then the next day, I find myself kissing him.

Now, notice anything strange? I mean besides that I tried to drown him using a canteen.

Hmmm… it seems to me that the 'love-hate' relationship is a very fine line. Yeah, maybe in those corny romance fairy-tales. Not with me. I'm a sensible, level-headed girl. Amorous relations with the enemy are _bad_.

'_But they sell so well in romance novellas!_', you may protest.

Well… That's all fine and dandy, but…

My life is _no_ romance novel.

BELIEVE me when I say that sentence. In fact, in the game of love, I'm the damn towel-girl! Not even a benchwarmer. A. Towel. Girl.

So anyways. As of yesterday, my mentality was as such.

I only wanted to focus on two—hear me, two—things. Keeping tabs on a kid who goes by the (ridiculous) nickname of 'Avatar', and keeping a barely passing GPA.

Why watch over this Avatar kid?

Long story short…?

He just moved in next door. And he pissed off the boy a block away. He's now out to murder this boy. Have I mentioned that I _abhor_ this punk-assed bastard who goes by the alias of Fire-Bender?

I swear. His friends drove a car into our mailbox! And he had the absolute gall to laugh.

Oh-h-h-h… I'm gonna' protect this kid just to spite him!

—He's an absolute bastard.

Zuko Ozai. Freaky name. Freaky boy. Freaky issues with being a pyro-manic nutjob.

But very, very attractive. Argh.

And I _still_ haven't written my essay on The Scarlet Ibis!

xxxx

Watch and wait. Patience.

She's here. Perfect.

A stealthy leap down. Doesn't hear me. Twit. Grab her by the shoulder and spin her around with a dark smirk. "Nice weather we're having," I say emptily, before dragging her off and into my car, despite her frantic struggles.

"Now," I say, leaning back slightly after I lock the doors and stick the keys in the ignition.

xxxx

Oh, this is bad. Bad, bad, bad.

That freak-a-zoid Zuko just—just, jumped down from a _tree_, and forced me into his car! Ohgodohmygod. He's going to rape and kill me. I'll be the face on the milk carton! AAAAAAH!

I voice none of that, settling for screaming my head off and beating against the windows. Nobody's here. It's past dusk.

I _knew_ I should have let Sokka to go buy the mushrooms. But no-o-o-o, "The supermarket is _only_ around the corner, Sokka!"

AUGH! He's leaning closer to me.

…Oooh. He's sexy. But evil. Evil. Evil. Evil.

xxxx

"Evil. Evil. Evil," I hear her muttering when I lean in closer to her. I raise an eyebrow, containing an amused laugh. …Cute. But pointless.

"Tell me," I breath, "what do you know about me?"

She blinks, and furrows her eyebrows.

"You're a psychopathic loser who likes playing with lighters and matches, and have an obsession with vengeance on an innocent 12-year-old."

I shrug. "You do realize that the Avatar is my half-cousin?"

She whips her head around and stares at me. "Bull. Now let—me—out!"

I shake my head. "He tried to push me off a roof."

She pauses. "Oh. So you're not a psychopath who's out to get him for no reason?"

I grin slightly. "Obviously."

Then she rolls her eyes. "I don't buy it. You abducted me off the street. That spells psycho with a capital Psy."

I shrug. "Not my fault that every time I see you, you try to douse me with water. Hose, canteen, water balloon…"

She has the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

xxxx

He's not crazy?

Weird. Now what am I going to do in study hall, if I can't devise ways of soaking him down to see the shocked look on his face…?

xxxx

She's thinking hard. "Don't blow a fuse," I say lowly, smirking.

She smacks me on the arm. "Let me out the car, weirdo. You made your point."

I grin, and unlock the doors. Before she leaves, I catch her arm, and with on hand on her jaw, turn her gently until she faces me.

xxxx

What the—

"Mmph!"

He's _kissing_ me! What the hell!

"Stop by. I'll take you for ice cream, 'kay?"

xxxx

Then I push her out gently, shut the door with a click, and drive off.

She's still standing there, looking shell-shocked.

And now she believes I'm not a psycho. So. Mental review.

Kiss the cute girl down the road? Check. Improve chances of revenge against brat who tried to key my car? Double-check.

… I'm _so_ good.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**After-note: **Come on. You didn't expect him to be a good boy, did you?


	3. Weirder

**Weirder**

Some people say 'leave well enough alone'. I say 'eat until you puke, and then eat some more'.

But that's not the point. In actuality, I have nary a clue what "the point" is. I just know the following things:

a. I am very bored.  
b. Katara isn't back with the mushrooms, yet.  
c. I just shaved myself a Mohawk from sheer boredom.  
d. It did not alleviate my boredom—instead, I now have a 2 inch high Mohawk.

And now… I must wonder: what the _hell_ was I _thinking_?

I let my innocent, naïve, probably-lethal-if-provoked baby sister out of the house after dark!

…I'm a bad brother!

xxxxx

Finally—home, sweet home. No gorgeous kiss-stealing nuts with bad driving skills here! Just the regular kind of nuts with bad driving skills and—oh my sweet god in heaven and fuzzy slippers.

"Sokka…?"

"You're home! Hey, d'ya have the mushrooms?"

"Hair."

"What? Oh. Yeah. Well, see, I figured it needed a little change. So anyways, about the mushrooms,"

"—but… hair."

"Katara, quit fixating on pointless things! Now—do you have the mushrooms or not?"

xxxxxx

Deep breaths. Slow and steady. Breath in. Breath out.

Calm.

Calm.

Calm.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT DID YOU _DO?_"

…Alright, we'll settle for non-insane.

"Katara, what's your issue? It's just hair," Sokka says dryly.

My jaw drops.

xxxxx

"Just hair? Just _hair_!" she screeches.

Yeowch. My ears are ri-i-i-i-i-ingi-i-i-ing…

"Sokka—you shaved your damn head! Now you look like that—that, _hooligan_ down the street! What next? You'll start shoving girls into cars and snogging them abruptly, too!"

…I'm sorry. I must be delusional. I think something just happened.

"What?" I breath.

She clams up, and begins to back toward the door to her bedroom.

xxxxx

"Oh no you _don't_," he roars. But really, _I _think it was more of a bellow. Case and point? The windows rattled.

This can't get worse, really. Well, it could, but it's highly unlikely. So really, it probably cannot get much worse, which is probably a very good thing for me.

And then the doorbell began ringing incessantly. Sokka storms to the front door, pinning me with a look that clearly says 'don't you _dare_ move' but I "accidentally" misinterpret as 'please go make a snack… 5.2 miles away'.

"Your sister left these," says a darkly amused, throaty voice, echoing from the front hallway.

"When was she near enough?" Sokka's in interrogation mode. Ye gods. This cannot be good. And then… I heard a glass of Ovaltine calling! Hooray. Easy out.

xxxxx

I smirk, and eye her brother carelessly, tossing the package of pre-sliced mushrooms from hand to hand. "All of five minutes ago. Nice hair, by the way."

"Shut up," he hisses, staring at me pointedly. "And leave me and my sister alone."

I raise an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you ask her if that's what she wants?"

He scoffs. "Uh, no."

A tin of what appears to be chocolate mix flies from the kitchen, pegging him in the skull. "I _heard_ that!" snaps the angry girl.

Mmm. Fiesty.

xxxxxx

I glare at him, and call out to Katara imploringly. Well, actually, I told her to quit throwing things at me.

Loser-boy just chuckled, and leaned against the doorframe lazily. "Let me talk to your sister."

I snort. "No."

"I never asked for your permission," he says lowly.

Ooooh… I smirk. "Alright," I say softly. "But first, meet Mister D."

"What the—!"

I slam the door. Hard.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**After-note: **…What? Sokka likes mushrooms. Don't we all?


	4. Weirdest

**Weirdest**

A calm discussion. Or not. A quiet, nice walk. Not really. An intense make-out session at the end of it. No—wait… yes.

"Sokka—did you just slam the door in his face?"

I try to answer in an innocent tone. "Of course not!"

Katara narrows her eyes suspiciously, and begins tapping her foot. Good god. She's becoming Gran-Gran… Only she doesn't fall asleep in front of Oprah. Hell, Katara _hates_ Oprah.

"Then why," she says softly, "am I hearing this?"

I smile sheepishly.

In the background, I hear a frantic kicking, punching, and knocking on our (thankfully sturdy, storm protection issue) front door, punctuated by outraged cries of 'Come back and fight me you little punk!'. I can't help it; a self-satisfied grin slips onto my face.

And then… pain.

xxxx

I should haul off and deck him. So when I finally hear the grinding of locks being unlocked, I smirk darkly.

The door opens slowly.

And I have to pull the punch. It's the girl.

…What's her name, anyways?

She looks at me apologetically, and steps out onto her porch, not 5 inches from where I am. She glances back into her house, calling out to her brother.

"I'm going out, Sokka."

He's silent. I crane my neck to see around the half-shut door. Her brother's tied to a chair, gagged with what looks to be a scarf. He glares at me, shouting a muffled obscenity through the gag.

I chuckle. "Shall we?"

She nods, looking just a _little_ bit uneasy.

Hnh. Maybe she's smarter than I thought—I can see the top of a can of mace from her jeans pocket.

Although, I have to wonder where the hell she got mace from.

xxxx

We walk down the street for a few moments in silence. It's a biting, bitter cold night—and it's only just past 9.

It's a little bit strange, walking next to this boy. It's also a bit interesting. You tell a lot about what's going on by how people move, and he's no exception.

Long, steady strides. Confident, relaxed posture. Cocky grin playing on his lips. Everything about him's rather appealing. Except the attitude, and the weird hair. Can't understand that, but hey. To each his own.

I have to wonder, though… where are we going?

And then I realized. We're not talking. Weird.

xxxx

"So," she says trivially. "Where are we going…?"

I raise an eyebrow. "You're just _now_ asking that?" She shrugs. "Well, it's none of your business, but to the shop."

She glances at me curiously. "What?"

"The body shop. Tattoos? Piercings? All that's done there."

She stares at me, eyes wide, and I have to laugh—her expression is priceless: like a bird face to face with a cat in pantyhose and a top-hat.

"What, you never wanted to see about a tongue piercing?"

She smacks me in the arm, then looks a bit terrified that she did so. But she pulls me to a halt, and shakes her head firmly. "Do you know what those are _used_ for?", she says in whispered screech.

I grin. Widely. She blushes brilliantly.

xxxx

What was I _thinking, _asking that. He opens his mouth to answer, and my eyes, wide as they are already, seem to crack open even more. I dread his answer. So I slap my hand over his mouth, chanting.

"Please don't answer that. Please don't answer that. Please don't answer th—ack!"

Oh. My. Word.

I snatch my hand back, and flinch. He licked my hand! Ew! And he couldn't just all-out lick it either, he like… flickered his tongue against my palm, too. So now I need disinfectant. He's got I'vehadwildsex-germs. I just _know_ it.

And he kissed me earlier. ERGH! What if he has some sort of STD? Ew! Ew. Ew. Ewwwwhy does he have to be so hot?

And now he's looking at me weird. Why is he looking at me weird? WHY?

… Please don't answer that, God.

…

Dammit.

xxxx

I chuckle, and pin her to the wall, drawing close to her, until I've got one leg slightly between hers. "Hey," I breath. She whimpers. "What's your name?"

"Wait. You don't know my _name_?"

I shrug. "Never bothered. Usually, I called you rather rude names considering you ruined my leather jacket the other week."

She sighs, looking away.

"My name's Katara," she says, shutting her eyes wearily. I smile. "Katara it is," I breath, before dipping my head to kiss her. Again.

You know, this is turning out quite nicely. I just tricked her not only into leaving me alone if I go for that brat Avatar Aang, but to making out with me.

Man. I need an award for how good I am.


	5. Weird As Hell

**Weird As Hell**

It's strange. It gets stranger. And then it explodes. (Not really.) This time? Mace. An omellette. Aang. And… just what did he do?

"What are you _doing_!"

Katara whipped around at the sound of her brother's outraged screech. I sighed, and held in the urge to scream 'We're a bit _busy_ here!'. It'd accomplish nothing. But, considering the current circumstances…

"Corrupting your little sister," I drawl with a smirk.

And at this, Katara whipped around, staring at me with an insulted expression. "Oh—no, you had _better _not have been doing this just to piss off my brother," she snarled.

I waved one hand dismissively.

Next thing I knew, I was staring at a can of mace. God, this was going to be painful.

xxxx

I'd never been so proud of my sister as I was at that moment.

I waited for the terse instant that she should have sprayed the mace. The guy had already dodged aside, but was still within range.

She never pressed down on the button; instead, she sighed, looking at that rotten prick with a hurt expression, before stepping toward me slowly.

I wrapped an arm around Katara, and began to steer her toward home. I'll kill him later.

Nobody toys with my little sister… without ending up in traction. Usually from her.

xxxx

What a bastard. I can't believe it… Although, I suppose, I should have expected it. For gods' sakes, he kidnapped me an hour ago. I'm just stupid, I guess.

I just couldn't spray the mace. It's not like he'd tried to hurt me… and that stuff is brutal. I wouldn't do that. I can't. I mean, not only is it like hanging a man for stealing a peanut, but it's also likely to get me sued by his family if he wanted.

And spraying people with concentrated pepper-spray _really_ doesn't make them inclined to listen to your pleas of "Please don't file a lawsuit!"

…He's a _great_ kisser, though.

And before I knew it, we were back home. And then Sokka finally let loose the beast.

xxxx

"I," I said stiffly, "will not talk to you—until you make me a mushroom and jack cheese omellette."

She grinned wryly, and hugged me. I sighed, and shook my head. "Katara, what were you thinking?"

She shrugged, and collapsed onto the carpet. "I… don't know. He's just really, _really_… something," she said with a slightly wistful look.

I flicked her leg. "Don't get all wistful over that punk on me, or I'll leave and never come back until breakfast."

She grinned. "Shut up, Sokka."

And then someone started knocking at the door again. I _swear_—this is getting old.

xxxx

The door creaked open—creaklessly, that is. But I think the expression on the face of the boy who opened it was terrifying enough to merit a creaky door.

I blinked, and waved tentatively, the porch light washing over me in a bath of dingy yellow light. Behind the impassive, albeit slightly less foreboding boy, I heard a girl's voice ring out, "'Ey, who is it?"

Wait. I recognize that voice!

"Hi, Katara!"

"Aang?"

I smile broadly, and wave frantically, stretching up on my toes to be seen over the boy.

"Sokka, move! It's Aang—remember, the kid we met two weeks ago?" The boy—Sokka—blinked, then smacked a hand to his face. "Oh, hey! Sorry kid, I didn't recognize you!" he said with a grin, opening the door fully and ushering me in.

Katara stood nearby, lounging around by a fireplace. "Hey, Aang. Whatcha doin' here so late?"

I drew in a slow breath, before dropping to the carpeted floor. "I saw you with Zuko. I thought you hated him..!"

She glanced at me in surprise, before getting a mildly annoyed look on her face. "Look, Aang, it's sweet an' all that you're concerned,"

"—Rightly so," her brother muttered. Katara shot him A Look—the one everyone's parents give their kids.

"—but you don't need to be. The matter is resolved," she said in a clipped statement.

Sokka glanced at her. "It is?"

"Yes, it _is_!" she hissed.

I laughed lightly. "O-o-o-okay…"

"But really, Katara," I said, a bit more serious, "…you shouldn't be around him."

xxxx

Boy, do I like this kid. We should get together and team up against Katara one of these days; see if we can lecture some sense into her… And then have lunch over at Panda Express!

Mmm. Chow Mein…

…Chow Down!

xxxx

I sigh. "Alright, alright, enough. Everyone here is against me being within ten feet of Zuko, so I won't be!"

Aang and Sokka look not only relieved, but elated. "Good—you have no _idea_ what trouble he is," Sokka began.

"Yeah!" piped up Aang, "He almost massacred me for daring to touch his _precious _Jaguar! He's crazy!"

I froze, and glanced at Aang out of the corner of my eye. Slowly, I turned away from the fireplace.

"What?"

"Huh?"

"Aang—what did you just say?"

He looks a bit panicked. "I-I… Did I say something wrong?"

I'm silent.

"I… I have to go."

"No, wait—Aang!"

Too late. He's out the door, and off running.

"Crap," I mutter.

I mean… I never _believed_ Zuko when he said Aang tried to push him off the roof, or that they were related. I just thought he had no reason. I figured that Aang had just said something to piss him off…

But… that means… he kinda _is_ justified. Wait—what did Aang _do_, anyways?


	6. Too Weird For Words

**Too Weird for Words**

Two days had passed.

Two silent, serious, thought-provoking days. In theory.

In reality, it was two days of listening to Sokka howl at Haru as he was beaten in many different, creative, disturbing, ways while playing Halo. They had been having a game-a-thon since Friday night.

"Stop _humping_ my player!"

I felt my lips twitch upward at Sokka's whiny scream from the other room, as Haru was undoubtedly pressing his player up and down over Sokka's 'killed' one. Boys, apparently, find this funny.

Then again, so do I.

"Sokka," I called mockingly down the hall, "you know you like it!"

Haru's riotous laughter echoed throughout the house.

xxx

It was about 4 PM when I finally decided to ditch the two idiots having a PlayStation Party in my house and go for a walk.

I mean, hell, I _needed_ a walk. After what I'd been going through?

And then, while I was ranting to myself on how annoying my life had become (and winter break was almost over!), I noticed. . .

Aang. He was but 50 feet ahead, walking his dog—a small fluff-ball Pomeranian. As he continued along the winding path, I stalked him from a distance. Time for some answers.

But whenever I came close, the dog acted up. So I waited.

About a ½ mile down the lane was a small side-road which went directly through the neighborhoods—the _shortcut_.

After he passed it, I scooted down it, and raced off.

I heard the dogs yaps behind me, but simply kept on jogging ahead.

I wanted answers.

And after fifteen minutes of breathing quietly behind a bush, (ewew_ew_ there were bugs!), he came around the corner. And I slid from the bushes into view, but two yards from him.

"Aang," I snarled, "you're comin' with me."

He screamed. Like a small, blonde, lollipop-toting little girl. Tsheheheh.

And, after a minute of letting him plead, I relented. "Fine, we'll have a 'talk' here. Starting with: what did you _do_…"

xxx

"…to Zuko's car?"

I swallowed nervously. I had hoped she'd never know about that. Really, I had. In fact, I was currently in a silent state of panic.

"Uhhh…"

She stepped closer, ignoring my dog's high-pitched barks, and grabbed me by the collar.

"Well?" she gritted out.

"Okay, so I tried to key his car, but sheesh! Who takes a dingy ole' car that seriously?"

No—wait, dammit! I was supposed to _lie_ there! Ack! She's giving me a _look_. Ohgod. Mommy—_mommy_!

"Aang…?"

"Y-yes…?"

"His car is a _Jaguar_!"

Eep.

xxx

Ding-dong!

I groaned, rolled over on the couch and ignored it.

Ding-dong!

"Hell no," I muttered, screwing my eyes shut.

Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!

I felt my fingers flex into a fist, and growled harshly, before lurching myself up and thumping to the door.

I swung it open roughly, barking a "What?"

And, lo and behold, at the door stood 3 figures I hadn't expected to see. Katara, the brat, and his dog.

Weird, I reflected.

She stiffened and pushed the boy forward slightly. "Did he," she jerked her head toward Aang, "key your car?"

I scowled and nodded.

She stared at him. "Aang… why did you key Zuko's car?"

He whined and stared at her imploringly. "He tried to kill me!"

I sneered. "Only because you deserved it, disrespectful brat," I muttered darkly. He'd practically begged for it after the remark he made about my scar, my sister, and my father.

"_Zuko_," she hissed, "I—you… Argh! You two are just—just…! Augh! You know what? Forget it," she yelled.

"Just forget it. Aang, don't touch his damn car. Zuko, stop trying to get payback, it'll buff out! And so help me god, if I catch either of you two trying to kill each other, they won't find bodies," she snarled. "Got it?"

I smirked. The boy nodded. She nodded abruptly, before turning on her heel to leave.

"Katara, wait," I called. I pushed the boy away from my front porch and hissed "Scram!", as she stalked back. "What?"

"Nothing," I said with a smirk, before grabbing her by the arms and pulling her in for a kiss. "'cept that," I muttered, before nipping her lips roughly and slipping my tongue between them. I heard retching noises from the 'audience' of one, and flipped him off.

Mmm. She may be more pure than a friggin' nun—something she never lets me forget when my hands drift upward toward those lovely… err… anyways—

Well, hell, she's a good kisser. A happy ending as any, except for the brat who's commentating.


End file.
